Give Them Pretty Songs to Sing
by lone-star-woman
Summary: After letting go of Tommy, Tosh wants to be alone. Ianto has another idea and arrives at her flat with beer and pizza.


Tosh had thought a Fred Astaire movie would make her feel better, but once he sang, "I'm in heaven," she lost it. She curled up on the sofa and clutched her stomach as if someone had kicked her. She cried until her eyes were puffy and her cheeks began to hurt. All she could think about was poor, scared, trusting Tommy.

She'd never felt so terrible about saving the world. Yes, she's had to make sacrifices, and she'd wounded and killed her fair share of aliens and humans, but she'd never had to convince a good man, an innocent man - someone she cared about, no less - to face certain death for the sake of humanity.

And when she walked through the Plass and later when watched the news, she couldn't console herself by telling herself that this world was worth it. Everything just seemed so hollow when the world was filled with so much hate, apathy and willful ignorance. No one outside of Torchwood would know what Tommy did for them; that seemed like a crime in itself.

And Torchwood had cost her another lover…

Lover.

Lover didn't seem to fit what Tommy was to her. There was no relationship to speak of other than the one night. She'd hardly known him but for five days, and she would be deluding herself if she thought that she could have built a real relationship with him, because while he was an agreeable bloke, what in God's name did they even have in common? Even if she did have the opportunity to build a life with him, once the thrill of romance had worn off, then what? In truth, Tommy was a fantasy. Coming to that conclusion left Tosh feeling like a fraud because his trust in her was based on nothing more than a beautiful ideal, one that lacked substance.

The doorbell rang, disrupting Tosh's train of thought. She remained on the couch, not moving one muscle, hoping that the person would just leave. The doorbell rang again.

And again.

And again.

Tosh thought it might be Owen, and if it was, she wasn't sure if she could get rid of him that easily. She would have to tell him to leave to his face and so she peeled herself off the couch and headed for the door. She almost paused to look at herself in the mirror, but she knew that she looked like shit. Well, Owen was certainly expecting her to look like shit, if his intention was to continue to pity party he'd started at that pier. Why disappoint him? He might turn on his heel and go at the sight of her.

But it wasn't Owen. It was Ianto, and he was out of his suit and dressed in a black hoodie and a pair of jeans. Tosh stood in the doorway for far too long with her mouth open. To his credit, Ianto kept smiling politely.

He held up a pizza box and said, "Thought you could use a good meal. Well, actually, this isn't a good meal, but I suppose it provides some sustenance. I have beer as well."

When she was about to decline, he looked at her with the sort of expression lost dogs used to sucker soft-hearts into offering them a home, and Tosh suddenly understood why Gwen kept referring to him as a poor lamb. However, Tosh knew better; she could see past the ruse. She let him in anyway.

He looked around the flat. "Where do you want this?"

Tosh frantically started tossing her used tissues into the rubbish bin. However, Ianto didn't seem to be put out by the state of her apartment, nor by her appearance. He was the picture of polite serenity.

He set the food on the table. "Why don't I grab the plates while you wash up?"

"Right."

He patted her on the shoulder before going on to the kitchen, but said nothing more.

Tosh went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. As she dried herself, she wondered why she was so nervous. It was just Ianto. They were mates. They spent plenty of time alone in the hub together, talking about science, the rift, the others. Sometimes, they had random conversations about nothing at all. Ianto was the guy who forwarded funny e-mails to her inbox. She sent him articles that he might find interesting. Theirs was a no-fuss, no-muss relationship.

But he was there, checking up on her, perhaps wanting to talk about Tommy, which she didn't know if she was ready or willing to do.

She decided that she'd have couple slices of pizza to show him that she was okay, then, he'd leave. It was simple as that. She could do pizza with Ianto. She did it every week. No big deal. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom.

Ianto was on the couch, already eating his first slice. He glanced at her, but quickly returned his attention to the screen and watched the dancers perform "The Piccolino."

"I could change it, if you'd like," Tosh said as she sat down.

"No, it's fine," Ianto said.

He opened a beer and passed it to her. Picking up his own bottle, he said, "Cheers." Not '_here's to Tommy_.' Simply '_cheers_.'

"Cheers." The bottles clinked, and they both took long draws.

Tosh sat up straight and nibbled on her piece, wondering when the talk was going to begin. However, he leaned forward and continued to eat, seemingly more concerned about keeping grease stains off his clothes or the couch than broaching a delicate subject. He also watched the movie as if he genuinely cared about the outcome of the silly farce.

When he put down his plate, Tosh almost gasped audibly. She could feel her eyes well up again as she geared up her defenses. However, he just picked up his beer again for another sip. When it was clear that he was in no hurry to begin a conversation, she leaned back into the couch and began to eat in earnest. Ianto casually passed her a napkin without even looking at her.

"They never kiss, do they?" Tosh asked as Fred and Ginger danced their final steps of the movie.

"Not that I recall. Not that I've seen many of these." He pointed to the screen. "This one's _Top Hat_, correct?"

"Very good," Tosh replied. "I suppose you've seen those movies with Jack?"

"My gran, actually."

Tosh tried to imagine Ianto as a little boy protesting as his video games were taken away so that his grandmother could use the television to watch Fred and Ginger. Or did he always have a fascination with all things vintage? He didn't volunteer any more information, and she didn't ask.

"Idiot plot," he said with affection as the credits rolled.

"Pardon?"

"That's what a critic called it. The entire plot of the movie hinges on a misunderstanding that could be cleared up by one sentence."

"Certainly would have saved poor Ginger a lot of grief," Tosh said. "Says a lot for basic getting-to-know-you conversations."

"But would we have had all the romance, if they had sorted things out in the first reel?"

"So we just suspend our disbelief and accept that two people can fall in love without really knowing each other?"

"Well, the movie was made during the Great Depression," Ianto pointed out. "People didn't watch this movie to have their lives reflected back to them; they went to see the movie to escape from desperate times."

"And after?"

Ianto shrugged. "They had pretty songs to hum."

"That's it?" Tosh said bitterly. "They had to face massive unemployment, bread lines, potential homelessness, potential starvation, but hey, at least they had pretty songs to sing."

Ianto quietly finished off his beer and carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin. He turned to her and said, "Perhaps a pretty song isn't much, but sometimes, that's all a person has to make things more bearable."

Tosh's heart constricted in her chest, and she could barely breathe. Ianto took her hand and held it as Tosh slowly pieced herself back together. She wanted to feel angry with herself for crying. The last thing she wanted was pity from Ianto. However, she found herself leaning on his shoulder, needing something solid to hold onto, something to keep her grounded. She concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest until her breathing matched his.

"I sent him back to hell," she whispered.

"You gave him a night to remember."

"He deserved more."

"Perhaps," he replied. "But you gave him what he needed."

"But…"

He lifted up her chin so that her eyes met his. "You made the best of what time you had, and it meant something. Maybe not everything you would have liked, but it did mean something."

She wanted to believe him. There was nothing more she could do for Tommy; she had to believe that she gave the brave, young soldier a warm memory to cling to in his terrible situation. It was the only comforting thought she had at the moment.

Tosh nodded and pulled away slowly. Ianto got up and went into the kitchen. When he returned, he handed her a glass of water and stroked her hair as she drank it. Suddenly, it felt strange to see Ianto this way, so loving and oddly affectionate. Yet, it seemed so natural for him, and it felt good.

"Want to watch _Sullivan's Travels_?" she asked.

"I'd like that," he murmured.

As the opening credits began, Ianto told her, "You know, _Sullivan's Travels _was Preston Sturges' mea culpa for making comedy films rather than more intellectual work. He grew up amongst artists, eccentrics and intellectuals."

"You're beginning to sound like a cinematic encyclopedia."

"I like old movies," he replied sheepishly. "Always have."

Tosh didn't get to see the ending. The last thing she remembered was Joel McRae being thrown in jail while everyone else thought he was dead.

When she woke up, she was still on the couch with her head resting on Ianto's lap. She sat up and winced, partly because her neck hurt, partly in sympathy for Ianto. He must have slept sitting up. His neck and his back were going to kill him when he woke up, and she worried that she might have cut off the circulation from his legs. She shook him gently to wake him. He snorted twice and tried to move his head from side to side, but couldn't rotate it very far.

As he rubbed his neck, he whispered, "Hey."

"Hey."

"What time is it?"

"Half past seven."

"Shit," he muttered. He stood up and wobbled a bit as he struggled to gain his bearings. "Barely enough time to get home and take a shower." He looked at the mess on the coffee table. "After I help you tidy up."

"No, I've got it. Go."

"It won't take but a few minutes."

"Go." She looked down at the wrinkled state of her clothing. "I should really get ready myself."

"Jack won't mind if you need to take the day."

"Won't he?"

"You never take time for yourself. Meanwhile, Gwen's taken personal days to prepare for her wedding. Owen's come in late on several occasions because of hangovers."

"It doesn't feel right."

"What's one day?"

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me."

Tosh pressed her lips together and looked at him sternly. "I can't. You see I need to go back to work. I need something to occupy my mind. Whereas you can't have gotten much sleep last night, and it's not as if you take a great many personal days either. Quite the contrary, day in and day out, you are always the first to arrive and the last to leave."

Ianto gestured at the door awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. "Jack… he's expecting me…" he stammered.

"I'll tell him that you'll be in when you're ready."

"Tell him I'll only be out for half the day."

"Ianto, I'm serious. You need to take care of yourself."

"Please. If I make Jack wait any longer, he's liable to come to my flat, disturbing the rest I'm supposed to be getting."

"Honestly, what do you do for Jack that we can't handle?"

"Well…"

"All right, that did sound rather rude. What I meant to say is you are absolutely indispensable in your position. None of us will be remotely close to meeting your standards, but Jack can make do with the rest of us."

Ianto chuckled and nodded in lieu of a verbal reply.

"And Ianto?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He smiled and bowed.

She bowed in turn. "See you later."

"See you," he said as he slipped out of the flat.

She closed the door after him, and then walked to the window. She still had that terrible ache in her heart, but it wasn't as bad. Outside, the skies were still gray as they were the day before, but the residents of Cardiff didn't seem to mind. A young woman happily walked her dog, talking to it as they made their way down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. A gray-haired man carried a bright pink pastry box into his apartment building. Others went on to their jobs; others took their children to school. All thanks to Tommy.

She had begun to wonder if the sacrifice was worth it. Well, because there were people in the world like Ianto, it would appear that it was.

After cleaning up the pizza box and the beer bottles, Tosh put herself together and went out to face the day.

* * *

**A/N: **In case you were wondering, the critic who came up with the phrase "idiot plot" to describe _Top Hat _was Roger Ebert.


End file.
